Pipe Bomb
by RyokoMist
Summary: He wants her to pay. To suffer. He wants her DEAD. After a bomb nearly destroys Max's life entirely, a grinning threat from the past returns to finish what he started, and put an end to Hill High's smartest student. Only Batman can save the girl he cares about more than he realizes, and stop this new threat before things get: TERMINAL. An EXPLOSIVE new fic. UPDATES FREQUENTLY.
1. Chapter 1

_Good evening MistFits!_

 _Those of you are members of my Facebook group have known about what I'm dubbing the **NEW SEASON** , but those of you readers who don't follow my group DON'T know so I'm going to take a moment to break it down. I'm tired of starting stories and posting them and never getting the chance to update them frequently. I already have a TON of stories already ongoing because of that. So, I've decided that any new story that I begin will not be updated until it is either fully completed on my computer, or at least half way so. Why? Because this way I can begin doing something amazing._

 _WEEKLY. UPDATES. Yes, you read that right. I'm going to start weekly updating my NEW stories. So where do the old stories fit in? Well, since I'll have the new fics either fully completed or halfway, that gives me a chance to spend more time on my current ongoing stories that havent been updated in forever. Also, I always stretch myself thin when it comes to having multiple stories up so to make life easier, it is my intention now to try and work on only one to two current stories at a time and FINISH them before moving on._

 _As it is right now, all of my current ongoing stories are on the back burner so I can finish one of my most popular fics: **THE ENEMY'S HEART (Alien vs Predator/Scar and Lex)**. As it's projected now, TEH has about another 3-4 chapters left before completion. I have a ton of new fic ideas laid out for the New Season, and I want to get TEH wrapped up so I can get to working on the sequel. I'm also hoping to do some "what if" stories for another Batman Beyond story you all seemed to like, **QUEEN KOBRA.** These stories may consist of Max's life on the run as the leader of Kobra, raising her daughter, OR if Zander hadn't died! IF ZANDER HADN'T DIED?! THEY'D STILL BE MARRIED! SHE'D STILL BE EVIL! AHHHHHH!_

 _Anyways, here is my newest fic. Look out for updates every Monday. If something comes up and I can't update, you will be informed via an uploaded commentary chapter. Until next time!_

* * *

 **Pipe Bomb**

 **One:** _ **TERROR**_

A chocolate brown hand reached up and whipped through the pink hair of its owner dramatically in exhaustion. "Ugh! Seriously, I'm pegged…" groaned out Max Gibson, the curvaceous and beautiful brain of Hamilton Hill High, as she walked down the street towards her apartment building. Walking diligently at her side was the girl's best friend – none other than the vigilante Bat himself – Terrence McGinnis. It was a cool, autumn day, and the two friends relished in the subtle silence of her block. While it was still often times busy, it was nowhere near as noisy or boisterous as further in towards downtown Gotham. The residents had petitioned to make the street a little more inviting, somehow managing to do something most other residential spots in Gotham had failed to…they got an influx of trees put in. While it was definitely strange to have so much greenery about the street, Max's favorite season _was_ the fall; and having the trees turning their beautiful shades of reds, oranges, browns, yellows, golds, purples and more, quite frankly took her breath away.

McGinnis studied his best friend with a crooked smirk as she yawned and stretched her arms up above her head. "Did you _really_ have to go in early and stay late to fix HaHFS?" Hamilton Hill Faculty System – known as HaHFS – had apparently been giving the faculty some problems for the past couple of days. The company responsible for running and maintaining the system was incapable of coming to assess and make any repairs until the following week, and the staff was desperate to access their information – student _and_ personal. Of course Max had pointed out the stupidity and recklessness of keeping everything on one sole database, but that hadn't been none of her business…until yesterday after school when she'd been approached by the principal.

Max sighed, waving to a group of elderly residents sitting at a small park like area that had been added right across the street from her apartment complex. The block definitely still had its rough and callous corners, but with most of the younger residents gone or locked up and the remnant majority being the elderly and families with young children, all had been done to brighten up the place – maybe even attract some new residents. So far, it was working. Fact of the matter was ever since the long missing Batman's resurgence and rising victories against the city's criminal campaigns, Gotham obtained a bright ray of hope once again. Max loved that – and she loved Terry even more for being the source of that hope.

"You kiddin', McGinnis?" questioned the gamer girl incredulously as the pair turned inside of her complex and headed towards the elevators. "Principal Nakamura personally asked me to get the system up and running until the company could come and officially fix the problem." Max added with a scoff of playful cockiness, directing a mischievous gaze at McGinnis who smiled all knowingly, "As if they'll _need_ to once I'm done!" They both laughed. "Anyways, he offered a homework free week. And if I _didn't_ -," continued Max with a disgusted shiver, "-I'd be spending every Saturday for the next two months in detention. It was absolute blackmail! I'd be fool either way. So I figured missing out on a few hours of sleep and getting home late was a better punishment." Nakamura may have been an ass and total dreg – but he knew how to get his students motivated; even cruelly so.

Terry chuckled, the elevator closing on them and their ascent beginning. "Yeah, well," started the raven haired heartthrob, knowing she was right, "thanks for inviting me along to 'help' you fix the system."

Max playfully nudged his arm. "I thought it would only be fair to share the gift I was blessed with, with someone subdued with your…schedule. You could use a break from worrying about balancing, well, your _entire_ life…"

McGinnis snorted, understanding completely what the brain was insinuating. With all the work McGinnis had to do at home, for Wayne, and put in on the streets of Gotham as its newest version of the Caped Crusader, a week without homework was just the weight lift the kid needed off his shoulders. Of course, Terry was absolutely no help to Gibson whatsoever in purging the HaHFS system. If anything, he just sat on a nearby desk handing the divinely favored melanin Queen whatever materials she needed (most of which he couldn't even recognize, causing her to step in and get them herself). By the time they'd finished, nearly three hours passed before the kids could leave. Still, even though both teens were mentally worn out, they still had plans and had no intention of canceling: a night on the town at the VRROOM! Vid games, pizza, and music – for them, there was nothing better.

The elevator reached its desired floor and the couple of teens made their way for the apartment. Max had been positive that Terry would want to reschedule their playdate for another time given the circumstances, but McGinnis was desperate to indulge in this rare moment of peace while it lasted; plus he'd been promising Max some recreation for a while now – and the lad hated breaking his promises. Besides, his best friend deserved some fun too, and Terry wanted nothing more than to keep that infectious, beautiful smile on her face.

Max scanned her access card and the door unlocked, sliding open with a barely audible *whoosh*. "You sure you're okay with this, Ter?" asked Max with a twinge of guilt in her voice. "I'm sure you'd much rather spend this time catching up on sleep-."

"Max, stop," whined Terry with exasperation. "We've been over this all the way here. And seeing as how my bike is getting repairs and we had to transit and walk – it's been a long conversation."

Gibson tossed her backpack on the kitchen counter and bit her lip. "I know, I know," she chimed in before holding herself tight in that vulnerable way of hers. "It's just. I don't want to be a burden or anything…You do so much important shiz. Sometimes I feel like I'm just making things harder on you. I don't want to get in the way-."

She didn't have time to finish. As if he'd even let her. Before the pink haired dame could even process the rest of the words to complete the sentence, Terry was standing in front of her – a hand extended and gently rubbing his best friend's arm. "Max. Don't." Things had been hard on the youngest Gibson over the past couple of months. Her sister got a second apartment in Neo-Marina, California where she spent most of her time, so Max was missing her elder sibling a little more than usual. Her mom was remarrying some guy half her age that was old enough to be an older brother rather than a stepfather – so naturally Maxine was beyond unhappy with that development, and things between the mother and daughter were dangerously strained. And the icing on the cake? Her father had recently been diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer, and things weren't exactly looking the best for the Gibson father. Fact of the matter was, all of this unfolding drama had Max second guessing herself quite often. She hardly ever left the house. Her sister hardly ever called because life kept her busy, and when her mother did – Max didn't want to answer the phone because the conversation _always_ went left. Max visited her father so much, that he made her promise not to come visit for a couple weeks out of concern for his daughter's mental and emotional wellbeing; and even though she swore, not being able to do so hurt the teen a lot. Even still, through it all the teen did everything possible to remain "strong" – or at least keep up the appearance that she was. Terry beat himself up constantly; he had been so busy with everything else that he couldn't even tell for the longest time that his best friend had been going through hell. He felt as if he'd let her down.

He _had_.

He wasn't going to continue that.

Terry cocked his head to the side, matching his winter blue eyes with her own to help the girl grasp how serious he was. "Max, there's nothing in this world I'd rather do than spend time with you," McGinnis assured her, gently pulling his Oracle into his large chest for a comforting embrace.

Max sighed. "…Thanks, Ter…" Her arms instinctively tied themselves about the boy's back, and they remained thus for what felt like an eternity.

Max rotated her head, burying her face completely into his shirt as she softly murmured: "I love you…" And then suddenly, a charge of electricity surged through McGinnis's chest, sending his heartbeat skyrocketing out of control. Flutters overtook the teen's stomach as he bit his lip and pulled back a little to look at her face. Shit. Not again.

This had been happening to McGinnis for a while now ever since after telling Max the time he revealed his face to a kid to save his life, and the events of Max's kidnapping by KOBRA right after that. Terry always was aware of the shway connection that developed and strengthened every single day between he and Max due to his secret, but somewhere along the way that connection morphed and transformed into something Terrence hadn't noticed until recently – and still couldn't quite get a handle on. It became all the more worse the moment he realized that these feelings had been present… _all along_. The problem was now they were _stronger_ than before. Often times the vigilante found himself thinking about Max and looking at her in a completely different light, and the more time they spent together, touched each other, it became harder to ignore. It was absolutely crazy…wasn't it?

Max blinked, her face growing red from the way he was staring at her. One of his palms rested on the small of her back, and the female's spine practically flew out of place at the shiver that raced down to her feet…adding a strange pressure elsewhere between her legs. Max always had a crush on Terry. Always. But no one ever really seemed to notice. After all, both teens could be hella flirty, and they both were the kind of people who exercised physical contact as a means of bonding (i.e. hugging, holding hands, cuddling). For all Max and anyone else knew, their reactions together was just another day of the week. And yet for nearly a year, Gibson swore that there was now something more in their banter and touches; especially after Dana and Terry broke up a while back because Tan and her family were moving to China for her father's promotion at his job. Dana had even been eyeing a prestigious college there and knew she didn't want to risk missing such an opportunity to come back here. The former couple had said if they were meant to be, they'd find their way back to each other somehow…

"Ummm," Max coughed, taking a step back and swiping a piece of her neon pink hair out from her eyes. "I have to go in my room and get something. Then we can head on, okay?"

McGinnis took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets to resist the urge of touching her again. "Okay, I'll just wait at the door." He could feel his hands clawing at the fabric in an attempt to be set free from their temporary prison and taste the freedom of Max's curves.

The Brain turned around and headed down the hall for her room, only stopping for a moment to take a deep breath; placing a hand on her chest in an attempt to steady her galloping heartbeat. "Breathe, girl!" she whispered, chastising her emotions and trying to bring them in line. Finally calming down, Max opened up the door to the closet, humming quietly to herself, and eyed the brown leather jacket hanging up inside. "I'm just going to change real quick!" she hollered into the living room.

"Awww c'mon, Max! You don't have to change," called back Terry with a shake of the head.

Max rolled her eyes. "YOU'RE not the one who scuba dived straight into an ocean of dust under that desk!" She kicked off her pants and top, slipping on a pair of tan cargo pants and brown turtleneck crop top with exposed shoulders hanging right at the front of the closet within seconds. Reaching down and grabbing a pair of brown combat boots, Gibson quickly slipped them on one at time while hopping towards the dresser to give herself a spritz of fragrance and touch up her lipstick.

But once her hand touched the dresser and her gaze focused, Max froze. She hadn't noticed it at first when she entered the room, but now her attention had been forced to it. Her dresser had been completely trashed. Her lipsticks and glosses, spare foundation, lotion, jewelry, and more, had been strewn across the top messily and covered in some kind of web spray. Gibson's brown eyes filled with confusion as they looked up at the red writing on the mirror that read: " **HA HA HAHA HA! WHO'S SECOND PLACE NOW?!** "

Just then, a soft beeping sound reverberated from within the closet and Max turned slowly. "Terry?"

Hearing something wrong in her voice, McGinnis rushed back to find concern covering his best friend's countenance, and her dresser looking like a hurricane had hit it. "Max! Are you okay?"

She ignored his question, and instead asked one of her own. "Terry? What's that sound?"

McGinnis turned where she was facing towards the closet then… just then he registered the strange beeping. Cautiously he approached the closet, pulling back the clothes to reveal an unlocked and partially open black box. Taped on the wall above the box was a small note with a smiley face drawn on it. Swallowing the rising bile in his throat, McGinnis opened the note with one hand, and the box simultaneously with the other. The beeping sound sped up, and Terry dropped the note with a horrified gasp before turning on his feet with a holler and heading straight for Max just as the eerie beep held out into a single note. The inside of the paper had a skull drawn on it…a skull with pink hair. And the words? The words on the inside had read: " **BOOM** ".

"Terry, what?!" cried out Max as McGinnis never stopped running, lowered his shoulders a bit, and slammed right into Gibson's stomach, snatching away the girl's very breath.

"BOMB, MAX!" he yelled.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Max could feel the force of Terry plowing into her stomach as her feet went out from under her and her body became captive to him. She was up in his arms, digging her nails into his shoulder as she watched the closet with a maddened expression. He never stopped moving, and Gibson understood completely why. There was no time to head out the way they came. There was only one way left out now…

The beeping suddenly cut off. There was a short click, and Max watched in horror as an explosion of smoke followed by fire was destructively birthed out of her closet and came rushing straight towards them. The heat began to catch up as Max felt her face grow overwhelmingly hot. "TERRY!" she screamed in an ungodly manner, sure that they wouldn't escape the flames soon enough. McGinnis squeezed her tight, grit his teeth, and leaped full force into the glass of the bedroom window. The shards of glass cut at his body and flesh as he felt hot liquid rushing from out of various parts of his and Max's body from their cuts. They fell over the ledge just as the fire and smoke darted out of the entire apartment. As the flames fell back and the smoke oozed from the floor like a disease, Max and Terry plummeted from the level towards the ground. Max's hand extended for what remained of her home before gripping tight to the body of her best friend, closing her eyes, and welcoming the harsh reality of the concrete below…and death.

 _TO BE CONTINUED…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Pipe Bomb**

 **Two:** _ **TERROR pt. II**_

As the loud, disruptive boom rocked the neighborhood to the core, the residents down below automatically ducked and dropped or ran in any and every direction before realizing the disastrous explosion hadn't occurred down where they were. Glass suddenly came plummeting onto the streets and sidewalk in what felt like a wave of death. Mothers sheltered their children and ran across the road to the safety of the small park as others who were not so lucky were pelted by the falling debris of glass, building material, and more; the force of gravity causing their wounds to become severe and – for some unfortunate few – fatal. The ground was covered in building materials, blood, and bodies that either writhed in agony or remained motionless, their suffering already long ended. Screams rang out below, but all seemed dwarfed by the shout of terror that flooded from above.

The residents' eyes looked upward in absolute horror at the sight of two bodies dangling on a ledge beneath the entire floor now engulfed in flames from the explosion's fire spreading.

Above the chaos below, Terry groaned strenuously as his right arm clung to an overhanging ledge from an apartment's balcony. His left arm was extended down…and the dangling Max clung to it for absolute life. "MAX!" he yelled between grit teeth. "HANG ON!"

Easier said than done. Max's manicured nails had torn through the fabric of McGinnis' favorite brown jacket, acting as hooks that momentarily had her stabilized. But, the grip was not solid, and already Max could feel the strength leaving from her fingers. "TERRY!" she screamed fearfully. "DON'T LET ME GO!" She was positive right after the explosion and flying through the window that the next thing she would have felt was the agonizing strike of concrete before meeting absolute darkness. But somehow in the midst of that chaos, Terry had been able to adjust his position and grip on her, extend a hand, and by some bat-y miracle catch hold of the ledge of the apartment beneath hers. Death had been cheated…for now.

"JUST HANG ON, MAX!" Terry urged her. "I'M GOING TO PULL YOU UP." The secret hero of Gotham tugged upward; McGinnis hollering as slowly his left arm raised, struggling under Max's weight plus the harsh gravity that threatened to snap his arm and stop the heroic attempt. But, thanks to the work he'd put in developing his strength as the city's non-caped crusader, he was stronger than ever before…he could do it. "Max! Take the ledge!" A faint glimmer of hope surged between the both of them as sanctuary of the ledge grew closer. It was going to work! They were going to be okay! She was almost there. She was literally _right there_. With a laborious whine, Max extended trembling fingertips for the balcony, literally inches from safety, when a secondary explosion shook the building – causing McGinnis to flinch and Max to plummet downwards, just managing to catch his left arm again with a scream. "SHIT!" yelled McGinnis out of both the pain in his arm and disappointment in not getting Max to the elevated position. But that wasn't the worst of it: by now both of their strengths were completely sapped, and death loomed over once more.

"TERRY!" the young genius screamed, legs flailing madly as her hands struggled to maintain a grip on his jacket. "TERRY I'M SLIPPING! I'M SLIPPING!" Max's eyes instinctively faced down to the street far below where people were gathered in terror. Flashing lights from emergency vehicles danced across the area like Christmas lights as unintelligible words over a megaphone tried to reach them. She looked back up at her best friend with unspoken and unimaginable dread.

Oh God. He was losing her. Terrence felt his soul turn to ice as he looked down in absolute, mind shattering, strength depleting terror. Somehow he knew she was going to go. "Max!" McGinnis urged, an emotional crack making itself evident in his voice. "MAX! DON'T LET GO!"

Manicured fingertips struggled to gain hold onto his jacket as an icy chill ripped through both teens' very bones. "TERRY!" she screamed, bracing against the wind.

Terry's own fingers searched for some part of his best friend to latch on to – each passing second to no avail. "MAX!"

There was so much that Gibson had never seen or never done. So many things that she wanted to say to the people she cared about and the ones she didn't. All of those opportunities and possibilities melted away from the girl in a manner that revealed her true level of insignificance to this brutal world. Max's eyes widened and glazed over as she whispered with a newfound, heartbreaking and frightened realization: "I'm slipping…" Her grip slacked and she dropped further down McGinnis's arm to the very cuff of his sleeve.

"NO!" _Oh God, please don't do this_ , Terrence thought to himself in an agonizing plea.

"I'M SLIPPING!"

And then, he remembered! He remembered that he still had on his person an object that could save them…if there was still time left. McGinnis raises his chin and slaps it repeatedly against his jacket collar, struggling to find the intricate device there frantically. After a few seconds of this, he feels a pressure and a click, and the small, practically invisible com-link within his ear rings just two times before a voice on the other end of the line answers gruffly, " _Yes?_ "

"Bruce!" practically screeched the Batman protégé in more desperation than relief. "Send the jet to my coordinates!"

Wayne immediately sits up and grows rigid at the beyond noticeable panic in his young apprentice's voice. Without the slightest thought, the old man begins typing command codes into the Bat Cave's super computer – causing an immediate chain of automated reactions within the cave as sounds and hums whistle throughout, drowning out the soft cries of the residential bats. " _What's going on?_ "

"JUST DO IT!" growls the teen as he tries to maneuver his legs to clamp onto Max as a second means of preventative measure to keep her from plummeting to what would only be certain death.

Bruce hears the sounds of screaming and sirens in the background and slams a fist against a red button in the corner. " _Just hang on, Terry._ "

"HANG ON MAX!" He feels her grip drop from the cuff of the jacket into his very palm. The horror of the crowd raises in degree as McGinnis clenches his grip around her own, trying yet again to pull her up to the ledge; but his body was exhausted and not reacting to his attempts. He was spent. And that could only mean—. "Bruce!"

Wayne narrows his nearly white-aged brows. " _30 seconds._ " He touches a key on the computer pad as video surveillance appears on the screen. The old man grabs his jaw in suspense, almost ripping off the very skin as his heart gallops with anxiety. Would it make it in time? A dark resolve begins to overwhelm the original Batman that he fought diligently to ignore…in vain.

This was it: the end. Max stopped struggling. She looked her best friend dead in his beautiful blue eyes as a loud approaching sound blots out her words…words of goodbye. But Terry could read what she was saying. He knew what she was doing. He knew she had accepted the end. He knew it _was_ the end. "MAAAAX!"

Maxine Gibson's hands fell, catching nothing but air as she slipped away from Terrence McGinnis and dropped towards the waiting ground. The cries of the crowd welcomed her as Max gave one final scream of farewell.

"BRUCE!"

The Batmobile dashes from the distance at Mach speed, its top open expectantly as it pushes its safest limits to reach her in time, whizzing by with such speed that the glass from passing buildings shatter. The vehicle nosedives and accelerates after its plummeting quarry, swooping in just a few floors from the ground. Just at the last minute, just when it seemed as if all that would remain of the teen was a horrendous splatter of carcass and concrete, Max crashes back first into the super speed jet as Terry watches with anxious relief. He managed to get a final look at Max just as the top closed and the jet zoomed off into the autumn distance. As the crowd below cheered, Terry sighs and tells his predecessor via the com-link attached to his jacket collar: "Thanks, old man…"

" _I still got it._ "

Alongside a groan of wearied exertion, Terry swings his opposite hand upward and pulls himself over the ledge and balcony just as a group of firemen kick down the door and help him finish the climb safely. Through the open door the vigilante could see countless firefighters dashing back and forth within the complex halls; some escorting residents down to safety, while others were rushing to complete the battle of the explosions' now dying blaze. With a heavy sigh, McGinnis looks down into the gathered crowd, not even believing that he could have been looking at what remained of his best friend splattered below. But the hero's silent prayers of thanks are cut off at the sight of a man at the edge of the park. The man wore a large trench coat (making himself MORE obvious) and had been looking up at the building with what appeared to be a painted face. Terry didn't have the best sight in the world, but he was positive by the way the figure turned from the chaos that it was far from happy at how things turned out. McGinnis narrowed his brows, watching the figure finally disappear through the trees altogether. When sure that no one noticed, Terry touched the com once again and added in a tight voice, "Bruce? Get Max somewhere safe. I'll meet you."

Tempted as the previous Dark Knight may have been to ask his protégé why, he could tell from the teen's voice that there was far more going on than he currently knew, and that whatever it was, was on the verge of dangerous escalation if McGinnis's suspicions were correct. So, rather than give the kid a hard time, Wayne merely narrowed his brows and altered the directive he'd previously inputted into the jet's navigation system. " _Acknowledged._ "

* * *

Barbara Gordon was walking out of her office doors surrounded by a platoon of Gotham PD Officers to head to an apartment complex explosion, when the new, advanced Batmobile descended at the edge of the office's front steps. Gordon raised a brow, wondering to what she owed an unexpected visit from Batman as her officers raised their guns defensively to protect their Commissioner. Gordon rolled her eyes – jumpy little bastards, weren't they? But rather than coming face to face with Gotham's notorious vigilante, instead they were all shocked to the see the top of the black vehicle pull back and reveal a young African American female with pink hair curled up inside and looking at her surroundings as if she were stupefied.

As Barbara approached, the past Batgirl recognized the inhabitant to be none other than the female who was friends with McGinnis _and_ the Dark Knight. In fact, Barbara was pretty sure that this child was the futuristic equivalent of her old role as the Oracle. Still, vigilante assistant or not, the fear on the teen's face wiped away all other disputes, and Gordon immediately rushed to her aid. "Hey, kid!" Barbara called out as Max struggled to climb out of the vehicle and drop into the arms of the awaiting officers. "GET A MEDIC OVER HERE, NOW!" hollered the Commissioner as she noted Max covered in cuts, burns, and bleeding all over the sidewalk. "Kid," she cooed gently, giving Max's cheek a light slap to keep her awake once she'd been brought down to the safety of the concrete. "Stay with me. Help is on the way."

Max groaned, finally starting to feel every burn and fragment of glass. "Terry…" she whispered.

"You gotta tell me what happened. Where did you come from?"

Max sighed, exhausted from the ordeal altogether as she matched eyes with the Commissioner – thinking to herself that _this_ was the original Batgirl, and admiring everything she'd done in the past and was doing even right now. Guess old habits were hard to kill, after all. "My apartment…it exploded. Someone put a bomb in my closet."

Gordon furrowed her forehead. So she was related to the apartment explosion. "Who would do that to you, kid?"

"I don't know!" cried out Max, the confusion hitting the absolute fuck out of her at the question. "Why would someone put a bomb in my closet? Why would someone try to kill me?!"

Barbara stroked the girl's hair to calm her as she looked impatiently down the street for the ambulance that had yet to arrive. But her focus was on more than medical personnel's arrival. Something about this situation had the senior woman's mind working, figuring, remembering. Somehow the Gotham Commissioner knew that this wasn't some freak accident or isolated incident. Barbara had the distinct feeling that what happened to this girl today did so for a _reason_ …and that this wouldn't be the only attempt. But why? Why did she think that?

Finally the ambulance arrived and the emergency technicians loaded the victim onto the gurney for transport. Gordon directed a few of her officers for the ambulance. "I want this girl to have a police escort and security detail at the hospital. I'll make sure to get the proper paperwork filed so when she's released, she's put immediately in police custody."

One of the lieutenants scratched the back of his head. "You think there's a motive behind this, Commish?"

Barbara hummed. She followed the gurney up to the ambulance as Max was carried inside. One of the tech's looked down at an electronic chart and began asking all the necessary questions as the driver jumped out and prepared to make a mad dash for the wheel while two police cars pulled up – one in front of the ambulance and the other behind. The tech typed something onto the touch screen pad and asked, "Do you know your name, miss?"

His passenger nodded. "M-Max. Maxine Gibson."

Barbara froze. _Maxine Gibson_. That's why she had a feeling there was something more going on…because her name was on the chart Gordon had gotten last week. Maxine Gibson's unfortunate attack wasn't an accident – not when it involved damn _bombs_ placed in her closet. What happened today was perfectly intentional. Maxine Gibson's life was in danger, and the one who did this would surely strike again. Barbara knew he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied – and judging from his psych evaluation, he wouldn't be satisfied until Gibson was dead.

He wouldn't stop…

He was going: Terminal…

 _To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

_Life had me swarmed last week, so I couldn't find the time to post. Because of that, I added 6 more pages to this chapter to make up for it!_

* * *

 **Pipe Bomb**

 **Three:** _ **TERMINAL pt. 1**_

Standing within a pipe that laid right on the edge of Gotham Harbor, a shadow lurked and quivered with a dangerously provocative mixture of anger and ecstasy. As fading clouds pulled back from the crescent moon, illumination offered itself upon the sly silhouette to reveal the psychotic, ghoulish form of a man with white skin wearing a tattered strait jacket as his long, tar black hair flailed madly in the sweeping autumn wind. As the horrific memories of today played repetitively in a taunting fashion within his already disillusioned mind, he shot a fist straight into the lining of the pipe with a growl that would have made even the most vicious of dogs cower in terror. "She lived!" the ghoul's hateful intent vomiting from his countenance. "SHE LIVED!"

But just as quickly as it had come, the growl and rage of defeat melted away, suddenly transforming into a rumble of laughter as a crooked smile spread upon his lips decorated with black stitching, offering the illusion of them being sewn shut. "She…lived…Now I get to _watch_ her die…" The male stood up straight and inhaled deep through his nostrils as if the very air was the man's most potent of drugs. "Maaaaaxxxxx…"

* * *

Max's recovery at Gotham Memorial Hospital had been surprisingly swift. The girl was a fighter, and in no time the lacerations from the glass and burnt flesh were healing quite nicely. But, even after nearly a week in the hospital with countless visits from Chelsea, Howie, Blade, Nash, and of course her sister and mom (and regrettably the _fiancé_ ), Max was not allowed to be released from her secured, solitary room. Terry had been in the hospital religiously. On "doom's day" (as she liked to call it), McGinnis had met her at Gotham Memorial to be treated for his own wounds – but after a day, he had been cleared for release and Max hardly saw her best friend any more after that. Part of it was because the streets of Gotham kept their vigilante busy; the other part was because officers had a strict policy on her visitors and how long or how often they could see her. The security detail outside consisted of two cops and at least one detective at all times, and from what she'd heard from Chelsea, there was always at least two police cruisers on the hospital premises. Every day when she or her friends or family asked the doctor when the girl would be released, they were always given a run-around answer. Today, on day five of her captivity, Max had had enough.

The detective sitting outside of the room had his legs crossed and began chowing down on an icing dipped donut when the door opened and Max – fully dressed in a pair of leggings and a batgirl t-shirt – stepped outside and proceeded to pass him. The detective jumped up in an instant and blocked the patient's way with a crooked smirk. "Whoooaaaa!" he slurred. "Where do you think you're going?"

Max snorted as she tried to maneuver past him. "Home." She noticed that her hall was empty – or at least that all the staff were in other rooms.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," replied the pervy-looking detective with a blatantly condescending tone, "but you're not well enough to go home just yet."

Gibson rolled her eyes. "Is that what my doctor said? Or just your boss?"

The detective whistled in admiration at the teen's moxie and leaned forward with a hand gently but firmly on her shoulder. "Why don't you just crawl back in bed and recover, okay?"

If there was one thing Maxine Gibson hated more than anything, it was being treated like a helpless child…and being told what to do. Maybe if they had given her a reason to stay, she'd do so without protest. But keeping the girl locked away without the slightest mention as to "why" was not only exhausting – but infuriating. And the way this dreg looked at her right now was beyond uncomfortable. But it was when his eyes lowered down to her developed breasts and stayed there that Gibson's resolve to get away from the creep became downright solidified. At this point, she felt safer with Mad Stan than this sly piece of trash. Every nerve in her body screamed that something was wrong – but Max's adrenaline response was leaning toward _fight_ rather than _flight_. Max's brows narrowed dangerously as disgust at the continuation of his closeness made her feel both violated and _violent._ "Move. Or you will _be_ moved."

"Is that so?" The detective's smirk got even bigger at the thought of a challenge, but he had a job to do and began shoving his charge back inside of her room. But Max was serious, and her mood officially foul. All the in-home training she'd done and her self-defense classes took immediate effect as he tried to force her to a place where she did not wish to be. If he wanted her to stay, this bastard would have to _make_ her. Without warning, Max's right fist landed a strong uppercut on the detective's side jaw, causing him to reel back and let go of her momentarily before he growled in anger. "You little dreg!" he roared, advancing on the girl as he slapped her, spun her around, and slammed her front end against the hospital wall. "You little bitch," he whispered in her ear as she grunted against his strength. "You want to be a woman? I'll make you a fucking woman." He pressed his hips against her bottom as one fist had Max's hands flush against her back, and his other hand reached forward and gripped the tender flesh between her legs as he whispered that he was going to drag her in that room and teach her a "fucking lesson". Pun definitely – harassingly – intended.

She knew it. She fucking knew it. Max exhaled loud before slamming her head backwards against the detective's nose – breaking it. With a loud cry he fell back and grabbed the bloody, disfigured mass of bone and cartilage as the pink haired teen turned and slammed her foot straight into his crotch with all the force of hell itself. "AAAAAHHHHHHHH!' he hollered out in excruciating pain as the now pissed off girl practically went on a rampage.

"You! Disgusting! MOTHER FUCKER!" Max hollered out between blows as one fist clutched to his shirt and the other pounded him in the face. Then, something hard slammed against her, knocking her to the floor. One of the cops returning from a bathroom break witnessed the assault on his fellow law enforcer and launched into defensive mode without even bothering to wonder what on earth had started the beat down in the first place. He pinned Max on the floor and ordered her not to move. By now the hall was filling up with hospital staff, and the doctors rushed forward to put an end to the assault on their patient.

And then, the officer on top of Max was struck by a blow as a body lunged forward and had _him_ pinned on his back, punching him repeatedly. Max sat up and saw Terry on top of the officer defending his best friend from what he saw as an attack. Chaos erupted on the hospital floor as security and officers and nurses tried to get a handle on the situation until eventually-.

"HEY!" yelled out an authoritative woman's voice, causing all the mayhem to come to an abrupt halt. All eyes turned to see Commissioner Gordon coming down the hall with pure anger in her aged glare. "What the hell is going on here?" demanded the Commissioner as she witnessed her officers piled on top of McGinnis, and Gibson being protected by a set of doctors.

Terry was forced to his feet and dragged in front of Barbara. "Your no good cops were attacking Max!"

The officer who had been on top of Gibson stepped forward, more confusion on his expression than worry of rebuke. "Commissioner, I left Larry in charge while I went to whiz-," Gordon gave him a look that made him correct himself, "- _I mean_ , while I went to the bathroom. And when I came back, the girl was going straight **Mortal Kombat** on him! Look at him!" The officer motioned for the bloody and bruised Detective currently being treated by a nurse on the floor in front of the help desk. "I got her off of him, and that's when _Son of Hulk_ over there," motioning for Terry, "jumped me." Max did everything in her power not to show some form of respect for the officer's OBVIOUS nerdy puns.

Detective Larry jumped in first before his charge could. "It's true, Commish! The girl was trying to leave and when I stopped her, she just went crazy and attacked me. The damn bitch should be locked up in the psych ward, if you ask me."

Bitch? BITCH?! Max lunged forward for the detective – who flinched in terror – by the ridiculous onslaught of nurses that had her surrounded. "YOU LYING ASS DREG!" Max looked at Barbara and pointed an accusatory finger at the detective. "That piece of shit sexually assaulted me."

"AW C'MON, COMMISH!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" snapped Gibson before continuing desperately, "I was trying to leave, he wouldn't get out of my way and was all up in my space. So yeah, I hit him. Why? He wouldn't back up off me. He made me uncomfortable. Uncomfortable how? I've been approached by filth plenty times to know when a perv walks in the room. THEN that bastard slammed me against the wall, pressed his dirty boner on my ass, and grabbed me between my legs while saying he was going to drag me back in the room and teach me a lesson!"

That low down son of a-! Terry was the one who lunged next: straight for the detective. "YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" Chaos began to erupt all over again as McGinnis somehow managed to make it five whole steps in the detective's direction before four officers managed to pin him down all over again.

"ENOUGH!" yelled Gordon, massaging her temple as the hall once again grew quiet under the sound of her authority and irritation. "Whoever is lying or not, we'll know once we look at the tape."

The detective swallowed and practically squeaked. "Tape?"

Well, well, well. Maybe the kid wasn't as far off based as Larry made it out to be. Barbara raised a brow and then furrowed it. "Yes. Tape." Her finger pointed up to a small red light and device that rested above to the right, offering a full vantage of Max's door and any activity that would have gone on outside of it. The detective paled a little and Barbara growled. "Maybe I don't need the tape after all. Escort Detective Larry down to my office." A group of officers sighed and hauled the detective from the floor and down the hall as Barbara shook her head and waved a hand. "Let son of Hulk go, too. I want him and 'batgirl"," Barbara smirked at Max's top, "in a cruiser now. Consider this the girl's official discharge."

"Am I going home, Commissioner?" inquired Max.

Barbara sighed. "…There's something we need to discuss, first."

* * *

Within Barbara Gordon's office, Max sat rigidly, uncomfortable. She had been here alone for a few hours and the tension was getting so thick she could cut it with a finger. The sun had long disappeared from the sky as the black of night threatened to overrun even the inside of the Commissioner's office. Eventually the sounds of everything going on within the main building quieted down, and Max knew that most of the workers had either gone home, or were patrolling the Gotham streets – which were far more dangerous at night than during the day. A grumble in her stomach grew louder and more noticeable as Gibson's legs began to bounce up and down anxiously.

Just then, the office door opened and in stepped Gordon in her black shirt; the guns holstered on both sides of her ribcage revealing that despite her old age, Barbara would put a threat down without the slightest hesitation. Somehow, the original Batgirl didn't look quite as old anymore. "Sorry about the wait, kid," apologized Barbara. "And…I'm sorry about what Larry did to you. He's been taken care of."

Max swallowed. "You sound like a gangster when you say it like that."

Gordon raised a brow. "Does that make you feel sorry for him?"

Max's face had never been so serious in her life. "No. I _like_ the sound of it."

Barbara smirked. "You know, I think I like you, kid. Definitely a hell lot better than _some_ people." Her head turned towards the blinds, knowing the presence that waited on the other side of them.

A muffled voice from outside her office window exclaimed with hurt, "Hey!" Gordon walked to the window as if on cue and pulled it open to find nothingness. But once she closed it back, a form standing right in front of Max materialized out of the nothingness. The Dark Knight pouted at Gordon and stuck out his tongue childishly – knowing the source behind her previous words – before turning to face his alias's best friend. "You okay?" Batman asked.

"No!" Max leaped out of the chair and into his arms. They never really had time to discuss what had happened that day at her apartment with everything going on at the hospital and barely being able to see each other. But in the brief glimpse of her face that he saw, he knew everything she was going to say before she said it. Max buried her face into the hero's shoulder. She was trembling to the point that he pulled her closer and deeper into the embrace. "Thank you," Max finally whispered. "Thank you for saving me…"

His "Batman" voice nearly vanished altogether as he murmured, "Maaaax….", and comforted her.

Barbara coughed and the two released their hug, but never each other as Gibson leaned against the Batman whose hand was securely around her waist. Barbara could see _it_. "I hate to break up this festival of gratitude, but there's a reason both of you are here tonight. Miss Gibson?" Barbara gestured toward the chair and Max quickly took it.

Batman remained standing and folded his arms, already not liking where this was going just from what he could sense in the atmosphere. "What's going on, Gordon?" he demanded, his vigilante persona on its highest level, now. "You had her under complete surveillance at the hospital like you were worried about something."

Barbara leaned her bottom against the edge of her large desk and folded her arms as well. "As much as I hate to admit it, I _was_ worried about something…I _still_ am." She saw their expressions urging her to explain just as a knock reverberated across her door. Though they may have been surprised, she wasn't. "Come in." Obediently the door opened, and in stepped none other than Bruce Wayne, himself.

"Bruce."

"Barbara," greeted the old man before taking a seat next to Max. Uncharacteristically though, the senior reached out a hand and patted Max's in an attempt at reassurance. It was awkward, of course. But Max appreciated the gesture and responded with a light, nervous smile.

Max began fiddling her fingers. "Now I'm _really_ worried."

"Don't be," said Batman.

But Barbara immediately cut in coldly, making his words almost nonexistent. "No. She should be."

Bruce removed his hand from Max's and narrowed his brows a little as he gripped the handle of his cane. "Looks like you've got some explaining to do, Barb."

Gordon sighed but couldn't fight the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. "You know?"

Bruce grunted. "I've got a general idea. But it'll feel good to have someone else do all the explaining for once."

Quiet filled the lit office for just a few more brief moments before the Commissioner rounded her desk and took a seat, lacing her fingers together before her lips and never taking her eyes off of Max. "What happened at your apartment five days ago – well, it wasn't an accident."

Batman grew taut. He had suspected that after he saw the note in her closet of a skull with pink hair just moments before the bomb detonated. But hearing it was intentional made this all the more real. Barbara ignored the Bat and continued, "You were targeted, Miss Gibson. In fact, we have reason to believe that you still are. That's why I was so strict on your staying at the hospital. I know it was difficult for you not knowing what was going on, but I was trying to do my part the best that I could before this moment came."

Max shook her head, somehow having trouble understanding what was going on. "This makes no sense. Why would anyone want to kill me? I mean, I'm awesome as fuck, sure, but why-?" She paused and continued quickly: "Is it Kobra? Are they after me for what happened to Zander?"

Barbara shook her head. "After what happened to Zander, KOBRA has been fairly quiet. Besides, they'd have a bigger quarrel with Batman than they would with you. You were to be Zander's Queen. As much as they may not have liked it, they're more likely to leave you alone out of respect for their former leader's affections for you than try to kill you. That hate would be directed to the vigilante."

Max blinked. "Maybe…Maybe someone knows that I…" She motioned towards Batman and then linked her fingers together to indicate that the two of them were close, or somehow knew each other. "Maybe they're trying to get to him through me…"

Bruce shook his head this time. "As much of a possibility as that would be, I highly doubt that. It was too showy. If that were the case, they would have killed you with him there to watch. Or at least took you and made him hunt for you only to find you gone."

Barbara's brows arched a little as she whispered softly, grievingly: "…like Jason…"

Jason Todd. His former Robin. Although his face remained practically unreadable, the lowering of Wayne's eyes said it all. "Exactly."

"Then who-?" started Batman, getting a little tired of not getting straight to the point. Barbara pulled a file out of her drawer and slid it across the desk where Batman reached the manila folder (shocked that it wasn't a holo-file) and opened it. Almost instantly, the white, cowled eyes grew abnormally large as the Dark Knight shot Gordon an almost hateful stare. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!"

Max could feel her breath growing shallower and shallower by the second. Judging from his reaction, this was far from good. "What?!" she nearly screeched. "What is it?!"

Batman ignored her. "Since when did this happen?" he asked the Commissioner.

Barbara clenched her jaw. "About…two and a half, three weeks ago."

"What happened three weeks ago?!" interrupted Max.

"And you're just now saying anything about it?!" questioned Batman, disbelievingly.

"I just found out not too long ago. And it wasn't priority."

"So what classifies as priority to you guys, Barbara?"

"What's going on?"

"An apartment blowing up?"

"Guys…."

"Batman…" warned Gordon.

"Dozens of people killed and injured on the street?"

"Will someone tell me what's happening?"

"Or when there was nothing left of Max to put in a body bag?"

"SOMEONE TALK TO ME!" screamed Gibson with a slam of her fist on the arm of her chair. The room grew silent as Barbara and Batman faced the teen girl with lost expressions. Max huffed. "Talk to me. What's going on?" When no one said anything, Max got up from her chair and approached her disguised best friend, reaching for the manila in his hands. His face was full of warning, urging her not to look – but she did anyway. Quietly, Max took the envelope from his fingers, and opened the file. "Oh my God…" she whispered, dropping the set of papers and throwing a hand over her mouth, the other to her chest. She didn't know if she was going to vomit, or if her lungs were about to stop working.

Inside the file were two pictures side by side on top of a set of documents. One picture was the boy everyone at Hill High knew him to be, the other picture was the monster he truly was; the teen who felt so threatened by Max's brilliance that his only logical resolve was to "eliminate the competition" and kill her.

Carter Wilson. AKA? Terminal.

Now it was Bruce's turn to talk. "Nearly three weeks ago, there was a technical malfunction within the Juvenile Detention Center where Wilson was being held. A series of mechanics within the center went haywire. It was almost as if they were toys being controlled by a remote control. In the midst of the malfunction that left three guards in critical condition, there was a breakout of ten delinquents. While nine of the escapees were quickly apprehended, the tenth had yet to be found – in fact, it was almost like he'd completely disappeared altogether. When the other nine were asked about what happened, they spilled the beans. You see, the tenth had just been using them as a cover all along. He knew that they'd get caught, and used them to keep the officers distracted from his presence until he'd already disappeared in the fray. It was revealed that the tenth had caused the mechanics to malfunction and attack. And that he had plans when he got out…Plans for revenge against the one girl who ruined everything he'd ever worked for."

Barbara nodded her head. "And he means business too. By the time I'd gotten this information, we were swelled with other issues. I didn't think he'd really come back, or much less go this far. But now we know that I was wrong. And that's why I wanted to keep you in that hospital."

Max lost her balance. "All those people," she whispered in remembrance of the carnage the explosion had caused around her home. "So many people were hurt, killed, just to get to me…" Trying to kill her was one thing. Max could handle that. It wouldn't be the first time that Terminal or any other villain for that matter had attempted the feat – but it was the knowledge that her presence and her enemy's desire to end her life being responsible for so many others suffering, that made Max uneasy. Her breaths grew sporadic and short as she reached a hand out for Batman. "I can't breathe."

Batman was at her side in an instant. "It's a panic attack, Max. Focus on my breathing. Match yours with it."

"My family…"

Barbara stepped in next, running a palm along the girl's back. "Your family is safe. Wilson surprisingly has showcased no interest in them whatsoever. For now, at least. But just to be safe we've got them under police protection."

Max nodded her head and Batman felt her fingers lace through his for comfort. "Slow your breaths, Max," the Dark Knight encouraged. "I'm right here...There you go." His breaths were slow and drawn as Gibson eventually matched her breathing with his. Batman held her close, feeling her body become in tune with his own until calm overwhelmed the girl yet again. Somehow a fiery shiver raced across his spine and groin as the simple act of breathing together shifted into something far more intimate. McGinnis mentally slapped himself for thinking like that at a time like this.

Max sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "What do I do now? I can't go back home. I can't stay with my family because they'd definitely be in danger then…" The pink haired brain was subdued with a swarm of confusing thoughts and questions. "Where will I stay? Will I have to leave Gotham?" Max gave Gordon a serious look. "I'm not going to be chased out of my city by some maniac."

"She's more than welcome to stay with me, at the Manor," offered Wayne, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. "It'll be the safest place for her, and the cave could use an extra set of hands."

But Barbara shook her head in disagreement. "As true as that is, I don't think that's a good idea for now. You're Bruce Wayne," the Commissioner stressed. "If you take in this girl, it'll definitely get out. The last thing we need is that psycho finding out what's in your basement."

"…She'll stay with me," came the deep voice of the city's revamped hero. Although he could feel the gathered group's questioning gazes, the teen vigilante was not backing down from his solidified resolve. "More specifically, she'll stay with _me_." His voice modulated to the one that Max knew best, and everything became plain.

 _TO BE CONTINUED…_


End file.
